Evil calls Evil
by Bebec
Summary: People are wrong about him, about his obsession for his outfits in general. It's all about lie, misconception turned into a truth. The truth is… the truth is that Lucifer needs to take great care of his looking, he must make sure to wear each details of perfection not to forget one in particular. One's would call it a ritual. As for him, it's a safeguard. And he misplayed it.


**Author's notes:**

_Didn't want to start another chapter for my long fics, so I picked a prompt. I rearranged it a bit (about the 'satanists' part), though. I hope you'll like it. Not my first language, BUT my first attempt to write my idea straight in english. :D _

_No french, no translation taking hours, juuuuuuust english this time! _

_(fingers crossed)_

_This text is unbetaed (for now). _

_I would place it after __**S4E5**__, just before the episode __**6\. **_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

**EVIL CALLS EVIL**

* * *

There is a reason for Lucifer to be so a stickler for his outfit. He can't deny that some part of his obsession for it is balanced between the will to look stunning - as one's rather says divine, but let's keep these insults for his Dad, shall we? - and the pleasure he takes to upset the Detective, waiting and waiting for him to make his bloody mind for a shirt or a belt.

It is what everyone must think of him. And, as he noticed a long time ago, once human are convinced enough of an opinion, it soon becomes unwavering truth in their mind.

However, it's a bloody lie.

"Lucifer?" He lifts his head, stopping then to stare blankly at his hand, and meets the Detective's gaze. She's annoyed, both for his obvious lack of focus on the case and the case. He can't blame her to put her frustration on him - this girl was too young to die. "Are you with us?"

"Am I not visible enough for you, dear?"

"I'd prefer you involved enough."

"I am," he assures her. He rubs his palm on his pants, then takes a glance at his corvette outside. "I just—"

Did he leave it there? Not that he remembers taking it off of his finger, he never did. Never. He should check nevertheless. His palm lifts from his pant pockets - empty - to his jacket. The Detective watches him quietly, yet her expression shows growing perplexity.

"What are you doing?"

"It seems that... " Lucifer breathes in, out. He can't get rid of this knot in his throat. His voice is slightly hoarse when he speaks again, "It looks like I lost my ring, Detective."

"Your ring?"

Now, she's repeating each of his words. He usually liked to tease her about it, but he's not in the mood today.

"If this is your way to help me find it back, I'll pass."

He didn't want to rebuff her, but the words came out his mouth, out of control. His mind would soon be out of control as well, he can't stand the idea. The last time he—

He breathes in.

The last time had been a bloody nightmare.

Lucifer turns to Chloe, quiet and hurt - almost crossing the line of annoyance as he apologizes to her, shamefaced. "Pardon me, Detective. This isn't your fault, I shouldn't have blamed you for my lack of order."

She's about to say something, but Daniel calls her from the living room. He doesn't miss her look of concern before she leaves him alone in the kitchen. Brilliant, she won't let him go with this so easily. Exactly what he needs. As irritation roars inside him, Lucifer can feel something else arise in the depths of his mind. Else, old or new, it is something shady. The blood shadow under the dead body, around her slitting throat, through her brown hair works like a starting signal.

He stiffens, clenches his fists - free of a ring, pale skin of lies, hate and misconception of him.

They're wrong about him, about his obsession for his outfits in general. It's all about lie, misconception turned into a truth. The truth is… the truth is that Lucifer needs to take great care of his looking, he must make sure to wear each details of perfection not to forget one in particular. One's would call it a ritual.

As for him him, it's a safeguard.

And he misplayed it.

The blood turns darker at his feet, he feels a shiver running along his spine. He doesn't have a lot of time.

A male voice joins the Detective's. "Lucifer!"

"Coming right up, Detective," he says, searching for his phone.

**-xXx-**

* * *

It turns into a headache within minutes.

Each manifestation pokes against his temples, inside his skull ; it wraps around it, goes through it slowly, nightmarish slowness until the next one, even slower. He rubs his finger each time, holds onto the sensation of his skin. He tries to imagine silver instead, coldness slightly above, in its middle. He imagines him playing with it, turning it from one side to the other, feeling the pressure of the metal with each new turn. Linda told him about these strange abilities that human brain can have on body reactions, if humans can focus enough.

It worths a try, although he doubts it has a chance to work on celestials. Not to mention the Devil. He is certainly not human.

She called it 'autosuggestion'.

Whatever its name is, it's not bloody working.

"You're alright, buddy?"

Lucifer opens his eyes. He can't remember when or if he intended to shut them. He was only trying to 'suggest' something around his finger, without success so far. Ella has stopped taking pictures, as much as the Detective has stopped walking here and there in the living room, looking for evidences, looking for another theory to say aloud. Even the Douche has stopped whatever he was doing - everyone has, to stare at him with the same grouped concern.

He blinks, straightening up. The pain arises and fades in the back of his skull. "Right as rain, Miss Lopez."

"You don't look 'good'," said Daniel.

"Shame we can't say the same about your 'douche-look', Daniel." Pain and whispers swirl in his mind and he holds back a grunt of discomfort. He pinches the bridge of his nose, what's taking Maze so long?

"Okay. I take it back, you sound as dickish as usual, man."

Dan walks away, Chloe walks towards him.

Bollocks.

"What's wrong with you, today?" she looks for his gaze, finds it quickly. "Dan was just trying to be nice."

"Well, you know the words, 'do it or not, there's no try'... Sounds more like my Father than this green wrinkled alien, to tell the truth."

She frowns, then scrutinizes him from head to toe. "Are you drunk?" she asks.

"Far from it."

"Then what, Lucifer?" she asks impatiently. She looks around to be sure that no one else would hear them, turning back to him a second later. "I thought you still want us to be partners, to work with me…"

"I do, Detective."

"Is this something I did earlier, o-or…" she asks. The possibility seems to worry her a lot - that she might have upset him. He don't understand why, though. If something wrong ever happens, it's always on his behalf. She had been torturing herself for days after he'd been shot at Lux and yes, he wouldn't have been close to die if she haven't been there in the first place. But this man wouldn't have shot him if he had chosen another path for his life in the first place either.

_Sat…'ar my…._

_Lucifer._

It's the same old lie since the Beginning of Time.

Evil calls Evil.

And he's at the other end of the line. He is _evil_, after all.

"You've done nothing wrong, dear," Lucifer reassures her with a slight, yet tense smile. "I'm just eager to find my ring back. The sooner the better."

"You haven't found it yet? Why this ring is so important for you anyway?" She won't let go. He usually likes that, but not today. He would like peace and quiet, going back to the case instead. That would be lovely.

He sighs deeply. "Unfortunately no. I kind of need its assistance to keep noise pollution at bay."

She raises her eyebrows, surprised. "Oh. I… I never thought it was something from…" She can't say it, he doesn't take offense - there's plenty enough of things said in his mind at the moment. "I thought it was just a-a ring, actually."

"Well, it is. Not a model you can find on Earth, though."

"You said 'noise pollution'?" she continues, puzzled. "What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing you should feel concerned about," he hastily answers to her, avoiding her gaze. She's about to insist but Lucifer won't allow it - he can't stand to see pity in her eyes. That or disgust, here are the two single reactions she could have if she ever finds out what this is all about.

Evil.

Evil him. Evil everywhere.

Noisy evil.

"Please, Detective. I—" Pain strikes from nowhere and he does his best to keep his smile on his tensed lips. "I would appreciate if we could just… focus on the case?"

Chloe isn't pleased, he can tell by the deep frown across her forehead. "Can you?" she asks then, "Focus on the case?"

"Of course. Lead the way."

She's debating inside, lips pinched, brow furrowed. He's waiting, pounding headache, rubbing fingers, smiling as long as he needs to. He can't leave, leave would be a disaster. However, he can't beg her to let him stay. She would worry more, aks him more about this.

He needs to keep his mind busy, he needs any other voices - real ones, in this place - to block the others.

She nods just in time, ten more seconds and—

"Okay. Okay, but stop acting like an ass with everyone around. Deal?"

He nods in turn. "Deal."

The Detective gone, Lucifer stays alone, although it is a bad idea. Soon, more and more voices swirls vividly in his mind. Once again, he rubs his finger, focusing on his breathing, on its imaginary presence around his annular. As useless as before.

He flinches when his phone rings in his jacket pocket. He takes it, his features tense as he reads Maze's first words.

**Not at your place. Checking Decker's, keep u posted. **_**\- M**_

_Hear our pr…._

Lucifer closes his eyes. "Bloody Hell."

**-xXx-**

* * *

The deal made with the Detective weren't meant to last.

He doesn't know why he expected more time, to be honest. Evil isn't patient, to say the least. It only took an hour for the whispers in his head to turn into clear voices, they started to scream ten minutes ago. Chloe has noticed how he got instantly tensed in his chair beside her, not that their suspect did, too worried for himself to care.

If only the Detective could do the same.

Her gaze burns him each time he forgets to behave. He stopped acting like an arse, though. He stopped talking at all, better not to. He doubts he can express anything else but the pain and pure evil digging inside his skull.

'Headache' isn't strong enough to express what he's feeling, what he hears, what he sees through thoughts of Evil.

Blood isn't a problem. Blood, he could deal with it.

It's their desire he can't bear to hear, to see, to feel from his entire being.

_I want to hear her scream when I—_

_I want to slice his skin, tiny pieces by pieces and I wan—_

_I want to kill h—_

_I want—_

_I want._

_Want._

_Want, want, want, wa—_

The deal didn't last. He breaks it the moment he lets a growl arise in his throat, making both the suspect and the Detective jump. How couldn't they? This isn't human, this is evil.

Evil calls Evil.

"You did it, so stop lying to us Barney," he speaks for the first time since they entered inside the interrogation room, not moving a muscle. His eyes see he did it, he hears it. Clearly.

"I— No, I-I…" stammers Barney, looking at the Detective for help.

"Stop. Lying."

Lucifer's hand hit the table, startling them again.

"You… Don't you dare. Don't you dare lie. I heard you."

"What—? I didn't say anything. Y-you," he turns to the Detective again, urging her to take his defense. "Tell him I didn't! I didn't, I… I didn't."

Another furious growl comes out of Lucifer's tense lips. Barney shuts up instantly.

"Lucifer..." Chloe's trying to calm him down. There is no use, he is calm. He just can't stand lies, he can't stand Barney's thoughts about this poor young girl. How he wanted to touch her, how he wanted to hurt her and then—

He is_ lying. _Bloody fucking liar.

"Lucifer, stop this."

He can't. This is Evil. It's calling him. "Say it, Barney. Say it aloud, tell us how you waited for Cynthia to be alone, how you entered in her house by the opened window in her bedroom, how you watched her sleep on the couch before she opened her eyes on your disgusting face."

The Detective's eyes are wide-opened with shock. "How do you—" she says.

He doesn't listen to her. He's leaning towards the suspect who leans back in his chair, afraid but not enough. Cynthia was far more afraid, Lucifer hears her terrified screams as well. it's all Barney's thoughts now, Evil's possessions.

"Say it, Barney," he urges him.

Barney's lies echo with his true thoughts. "I didn't do it!", _"I did it."_

This is all it takes to Lucifer to break the deal more, he smashes it into pieces, as much as he smashes the table away from his path. Voices scream in his head, Chloe does, as Barney.

Until his hand, free of ring, comes around his throat.

"Lucifer!"

_Lucifer._

_Lucifer, hear us._

_Hear our pra—_

_Hear. _

_I want to see her blood paint the walls of her house._

_I want—_

_Want, want, want…_

Lucifer wants silence.

He hears something else, instead. Something new. This is the Detective's voice, she's in pain, not in his head but behind him. He turns slightly, he sees her collapsed on the ground near the one-way glass. She's holding her right arm against her chest, a large red bruise has appeared on her wrist.

He sees his own hand, his arm still stretched towards her.

He hears her groan with pain.

He did this. He did this to her.

He did this.

Because Evil calls Evil, because he is.

Evil.

The next seconds are a blur, he doesn't recall to let go of Barney's throat. Still, his hands stay limp at his sides. He doesn't remember Daniel coming in the interrogation room, but he is leading the suspect outside, shouting something at Lucifer. He doubts these are words of concern for him, he highly doubts it. He doesn't recall much until his back hits the wall, right where he was holding Barney in his grasp.

His legs collapsed on him seconds or minutes ago, he can't move from the floor, can't stop these voices swirling in his mind, screaming around him, calling him over and over again.

It won't stop.

Evil never stops.

It wraps around his heart, hastens his heartbeats, his breathing. He is no longer growling, he's barely—

_Lucifer._

_Lucifer, hear me—_

_Lucifer._

"Lucifer?"

He can't, he can't, he can't….

"Lucifer, bre—"

He can't. He can't do anything against it. Everyone says he is evil, everyone. They turned lies into the truth. Everything is blurry; the faces, the colors, the voices. He sees blood, he sees desire… this is _wrong. _

Why his ring isn't working?

He looks for it, scratches his skin, his fingers. His ring… Quiet. Stop.

Hands hold his. "Lucifer."

He makes eye contact with Chloe. She's a bit disheveled, wincing now and then, especially when he struggles to vividly against her grasp. He has to move away, she has to stay away from him. She doesn't, why doesn't she?

"I'm fine." It sounds like she's repeating these words for a while, seconds… minutes maybe. However, he only hears her litany now.

Fine. She's fine.

Really?

"I am. Lucifer… Lucifer, listen to me. You're having a panic-attack." He shakes his head, she forces him to look at her, she won't let go. "You're safe, okay?" she adds, her voice sounds so far away.

Evil's voice is the strongest.

He shakes his head, pain digs into his chest, his lungs. "...'mnot."

"Yes, you are."

"Nghn… 'ing." He can't breathe, can't focus. "Need… 'y ring."

The Detective frowns. "Your ring?" He nods weakly, his numb fingers dig into the fabric of her sleeve. "Where? Lucifer, where is it?"

I doesn't bloody know. He nevertheless manages to sputter an answer, "M-zee."

"Wh— Maze? You said 'Maze'?"

He blinks, nods again. She lets go of him, walks in front of him, glancing at him from time to time. How much time he doesn't know, what he knows is that the voices are getting stronger. He can't even think on his own, he only exists through them, for their evil desires.

The Detective's hands hold his chin again. "Okay, Lucifer? Lucifer… I got Maze on the phone. She's on her way, okay? She found your ring."

Finally a good news. "Wh-n?"

"Ten minutes."

Less good. "Caaaan….t. Dete—" His heart is near to explode in his chest. Air barely reached his lungs since it started.

Evil.

"Evil?" he hears Chloe repeat, although he can't remember saying this aloud. His voice isn't his anymore, so that's maybe why.

"Ngh…'m e-...il," he whimpers. She saw he was, that he will be, always. How can she stand here with him? He hurt her, he _showed_ her. She hadn't been able to stand for his devil face, and yet… it was nothing compared t-to _this. _

Him. Evil, answering to it. His answer always hanged by a thread, a ring actually.

"No, you're not. Listen, Lucifer Listen to me," she urges him and he does as she asks. He catches a glimpse of her face and her eyes through all the blood, all the suffering willingly given amongst the Earth. He feels her fingers on his cheeks. "You're hyperventilating, you need to calm down. Breathe, slowly."

Her voice is soft. His is hoarse, in pain. "C'nt...vil. Voic—" He tries to breathe in, fails at it. "In'de...my h-head. Can't…" Breathing out, whimpering. So weak. How pathetic. "Ngh...sh't them 'p…"

He's feeling dizzy.

_Lucifer, listen our free—_

_I want._

He groans, shuts his eyes. His own hands end up around his head, pressed against his temples.

Voices get muddle up with memories, voices of his past. Still, it is all about him being evil again. Maybe this isn't a lie after all, if his family - even his Father - called him so… Can't be a misconception of him.

_You're evil, Samael. Hell would suit you, you freak!_

_Can't say I'm surprised, you've always been different from us, rotten from the inside. _

_This is wrong, this is evil...you— You did this, Sam!_

_Monster!_

He is.

_Freak!_

He is.

_Evil being._

Damn right he is.

"Just focus on my voice, okay?" The Detective is touching him again, she touches his hands, shaking claws unable to stop this amount of evil within his mind, within his entire being. It's always been there, contained, hidden in the dark. Dark thoughts in dark place, how appropriate. Her hands reach his fingertips, she rubs them slowly. "I'm here. Hear my voice, Lucifer. Just mine."

He takes a deep, shaky breath. Again, a total waste. "Sh...uldn't."

"I'll stay, whether you like or not," she says, stubborn.

"I'm...vil."

"You're not."

"You wa'nt me….ot to," he manages to says between to failed attempts to breathe properly. He opens his eyes, looks at her blurred face. "N-not t'e...same."

"You proved me you weren't many times," She doesn't let go of his hands, she's so close. Too close. "Breathe, like me." She takes a deep breath, breathes out as slowly.

He gives it a try. Better, not enough. "Wh'n.."

"What?"

"Wh'n… proofs?" he wonders, curious.

Another try. Air hurts in his lungs, although slightly less painful than a minute ago. A minute? It seemed much longer to him. His throat doesn't seem to want to relax, as much as these violent tremors along his limbs. Everything hurts.

The Detective takes time to answer him. Was she lying to him about him not being evil? It looks, sounds like it. The silence is only disturbs by his hasty breathing, these voices splitting his skull in half, _very_ slowly.

Where the hell is Maze?

Then, Chloe speaks again - weak, soft gleam of light in his darkness. "New deal. I'll tell you why you're not evil, but in exchange… you keeps taking deep long breaths for me, okay?"

Well, it doesn't look like he can do anything else to occupy his time. "'kay."

She holds his hands all the time, not moving away from him once. They stay together, he crumpled on the floor of the interrogation room, she sat before him. He listens, breathes. She talks to him, helps him breathe slower.

"You bring me coffees every morning, always."

Everyone would.

"You prepared a prom, just for me."

Everyone should have one.

"You're nice with Trixie. Yes," she adds when he arches an eyebrow, breathing in as she asked."You _are_, Devil or not. I saw it, I keep seeing it. And you let her draw a unicorn on your cheek so…" she giggles. "If this is 'evil', I'm waaay out of my depths!"

He scoffs, breathes out.

Her spawn is kind of mischievous, so…

Chloe continues and he listens. They made a deal.

"You help catch murderers, not because it's funny, not because you're bored. You help me catch them because you can't stand Evil, you need to give justice to the good ones."

Now she sounds like his therapist. Did they talk together? He wouldn't be surprised.

He breathes out, slower than the last time.

"How can it be 'evil', hm?"

As time passes, Lucifer catches more and more of her voice, how soft she sounds in comparison with these screams of hatred and wrong desires in the back of his mind. They start moving backwards.

"You always got my back," she whispers. "You still do."

He breathes in. Her hands are soft, they soothe the evil inside him. They soothe him.

"You stopped Pierce, you saved me."

How could he not to?

"You jumped in front of that axe, the other day." Breathing in, it's getting easier. Voices are getting lower, inaudible whispers. "You'd do it again…."

"A'and… again," Lucifer whispers hoarsely, eyes shut.

Her hands move to his sweaty temples, rub them smoothly. Such a nice feeling, he moans. "Don't you know that, Lucifer?" she whispers in turn, so… so close to him now. Lucifer opens his eyes. There's only an inch or two between their foreheads, their gazes.

"Lucifer!"

They both jumps, both gazing groggily at Eve. She's standing at the doorframe, short of breath, Maze on her tails. The demon looks at them with a strange expression, but she doesn't comment. As soon as they realized they're not alone anymore, he and the Detective move away from each other. He sits up, tries to dislodge this knot inside his throat as she straightens up.

"Maze…" he mumbles, not pleased. "What took you so long? I asked you to find my ring, not ring Eve."

"My—! Lucifer, honey!" Eve sits near him, grabs his face with her hands. He flinches a bit, wondering why a second later. He didn't while it was the Detective. "Are you okay?"

"I could have come later, given how relaxed you were with Decker," the demon retorts, to which Chloe blushes instantly.

"I was just trying to calm him down, Maze. No big deal."

"Not answering my question, Maze," says Lucifer, straightening up as well. Eve follows his move, she can't help touching him. He would like her not to. He's sweaty, still a bit dizzy but more like his old-self. More or less - He feels different. "Where is it?"

Eve answers for her, searching something in her purse. "Here, here!" She puts his ring in his opened palm, he strikes the silver while listening to her anxious babbling. "I'm sorry, I really am. I… I wanted to do something nice for you and I… You're wearing this ring all the time, so I figured it was important for you."

She takes a deep breath. "I took it when you were sleeping this morning. I wanted to bring it to a jeweler and have it all cleaned… I wasn't— I didn't think that…" She shakes her head, placing her hands on his cheeks. "I'm sorry."

He sighs. "It's fine." It is. "Thanks… love." He has hesitated on the last word.

He hadn't noticed it was missing this morning. He was already late, the Detective was waiting for him at the precinct. Another murder to solve together, a new case to celebrate their 'closure', them being partners again.

He hadn't noticed.

He turns the ring between his fingers, then glancing at Chloe. It's fine. Lucifer puts his ring at its place, not that it changes something. It's been a moment since he hasn't heard Evil in his mind. It's been different since he heard the Detective.

Evil calls Evil.

The Detective doesn't.

She calls something _different. _

Sighing deeply, Lucifer looks away. To be honest, he's not sure he likes it either.

* * *

**Author's notes:**

This is the end!

So - about the satanists rearrangement, I wanted to treat the subject around 'Evil' in general.

Feel free to let me reviews about what you felt, and so on :)

(I'll think about a possible sequel, but there's nothing done - just tiny ideas popping in my mind.)

Thanks for reading and see u soon on my current works ;)


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